


Injuries and realizations

by Smowkie



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Background Relationships, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Drugged Derek Hale, Established Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Getting Together, Hurt Derek Hale, Idiots in Love, Injured Derek Hale, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Derek Hale, POV Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Takes Care Of Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 03:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18490684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smowkie/pseuds/Smowkie
Summary: “Hey, hey,” he said, his voice thick with panic. Derek groaned, his eyes squeezed shut, and Stiles gently touched his cheek. “Derek, you with me?”He didn’t really like how desperate he sounded, but he hadissues, okay, he had issues seeing Derek get hurt, and he couldn’t really handle seeing Derek look like he was about to be fuckingkilled.Derek though, he blinked his eyes open, his bulky brow furrowed deeply, his face contorted in pain as he looked at Stiles. “I thought we told you to stay back,” he said, lisping slightly around his fangs, and Stiles pushed at his shoulder. Hard.“Fuck you,” he said, pissed as he glared at Derek, but then he asked, in a too soft voice, “are you okay?”





	Injuries and realizations

**Author's Note:**

> [Bad Things Happen Bingo](https://badthingshappenbingo.tumblr.com/) is a thing, and since I love Bad Things Happening to our boys, I, of course, got a Bingo card from them. This is my first fic written for that card, and it covers the square **Broken Limb**.
> 
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> [Tumblr post.](http://sterekshaven.tumblr.com/post/184233427022)
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> This is unbetaed, but thoroughly read through and edited. Any remaining mistakes are my own, please leave them alone.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! ♥

•• **•** Stiles **•** ••

There was a manticore, a real fucking _manticore_. Thick scorpion-like tail ending in a big stinger, rows and rows of teeth and too big too dark eyes in a weirdly human-like face. _God,_ it was creepy looking. Stiles gripped his bat tighter, pulled his magic closer to the surface, and Derek looked back at him, his eyes huge, scared.

“Stay back,” he ordered and Stiles raised his eyebrows, hefted his bat, let the runes on it glow. “I know, but he’ll _kill_ you, _stay back_.”

“I can’t do anything from a distance,” Stiles said, already planning on ignoring Derek, but he hadn’t even taken a step forward before Derek’s hand was on his chest, stopping him.

“Stay back, _please_ , he can’t kill us, but he _will_ kill you,” Derek pleaded.

The manticore made a sound, like a rumbling hiss, and Derek looked at it, then back to Stiles, his eyes pleading, while Kira, Jordan, and Peter circled it with a wide berth.

“Do as he says,” Peter said, eyes firmly on the manticore, then he flicked them to Stiles. “Please.”

“God, _okay_ ,” Stiles groaned, and Derek looked at him another second, then nodded and turned back to the manticore, jogged closer and joined the others.

The manticore looked at them, one at the time as they circled it. It was big, much bigger than Stiles had thought it would be, almost like a horse, its lion shaped body muscular and dense but somehow still agile looking, its thick legs leading to huge paws with long sharp claws. It swished its tail, rumbled out another hiss, got its hind legs under itself, then shrieked as it _pounced_ Kira.

She evaded it, made it look easy as she stepped aside and swung her sword. The manticore, now with a bleeding line along its back, turned as it landed, hissed again and whipped its tail, slammed the stinger into the ground right next to Kira, who stumbled back.

“Fuck,” she whispered, and Stiles itched to join, to circle it with them, to _help_.

“Come here, kitty,” Peter said, and the manticore whipped its head around to look at him, then it bounced back towards Kira, jumped at her.

She scrambled back, swung her sword as she dodged to the side, and the noise the manticore made when the sword hit made every single hair on Stiles body stand. It was like a shriek and a roar and a rumble, all at the same time, it didn’t sound _natural_ , and Stiles guessed it wasn’t, not really, but still. No living creature should be able to make sounds like that. He gripped his bat tighter, pushed his spark to the surface, kept battle ready as he stood too far away and just watched them.

Derek and Peter were partially shifted, their fangs and claws at the ready, and Jordan’s clothes were smoking, his eyes glowing. They pushed closer, tightened the circle to get it to focus on them instead of Kira, and it snapped its teeth at them, whipped its tail, then it jumped Peter. It hit his shoulder, managed to claw him across the chest, but Peter got a good hit in too, clawed a line down the side of its face before stumbling back, hissing in pain.

Stiles wished it would be over with, just watching them like that was too much, it already felt like they had been at it for hours. He never had problems like those when he was in on the fight, but he felt too helpless where he was. He wanted nothing more than to go join them, but with both Derek _and_ Peter practically begging him to stay back he listened to them. He would stay back. Until he had no choice but to join in at least.

It was slow. The manticore was careful, kept track of everyone, and - much to Stiles’ frustration - its wounds slowly healed. It attacked, again and again, slowly but relentlessly, got in hits on all of them, but thankfully managed to miss with the stinger, just whipped it close to them and slammed it into the ground, too close for Stiles’ poor heart that was pounding in his chest. It didn’t seem to tire either. They were all breathing hard, Stiles’ could see sweat shine on their faces even from the distance he kept, could see how the manticore slowly wore them down.

When it happened it was almost too fast for Stiles to see. It slammed into Jordan, sent him sprawling with fresh - and _deep_ \- wounds across his chest, then it bounced, like a fucking _cat_ , to Peter - who tried to claw it - pushed him away, sent him slamming into a tree, before attacking Kira. She was fierce, she swung her crackling sword as she danced to the side, but it hit her, a huge paw slammed against her head, clawed her across the face as it pushed her back too.

Derek looked like he was on his way to attack its back, but the manticore was too fast, and he just stepped around, looked frustrated and scared. Then the manticore was on him. It let out a shrieking and rumbling hiss, slammed him down on the ground and the stinger into his chest.

Stiles didn’t realize he was running until he was almost at them, the others still disoriented and struggling to stand, to fight, to help, and Stiles’ bat crackled with magic as he filled it to the brim. The manticore looked up at him, tugged the stinger out of Derek, whipped its tail, but Stiles didn’t see, didn’t _care_ , he just swung his bat, hit the side of its head with a loud bang as the bat splintered and his magic exploded into the manticore. It fell to the ground and Stiles was at Derek’s side immediately.

“Hey, hey,” he said, his voice thick with panic. Derek groaned, his eyes squeezed shut, and Stiles gently touched his cheek. “Derek, you with me?”

He didn’t really like how desperate he sounded, but he had _issues_ , okay, he had issues seeing Derek get hurt, and he couldn’t really handle seeing Derek look like he was about to be fucking _killed_.

Derek though, he blinked his eyes open, his bulky brow furrowed deeply, his face contorted in pain as he looked at Stiles. “I thought we told you to stay back,” he said, lisping slightly around his fangs, and Stiles pushed at his shoulder. Hard.

“Fuck you,” he said, pissed as he glared at Derek, but then he asked, in a too soft voice, “are you okay?”

“Not really, no,” Derek said. He closed his eyes again, worked his jaw as his shift slowly receded. “Is he dead?”

Stiles looked at the manticore, then at Peter who was crouched down right next to it, at Kira and Jordan who were looking between the manticore and Derek.

“It is dead, yes,” Peter said, and he sounded _delighted_. Stiles raised his eyebrows at him, and Peter smiled as he gestured at the manticore. “This is… _gold._ The stinger alone, this is amazing.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at him and looked back at Derek. “I think Peter has a witchy components boner or something.” Derek smiled, his eyes still closed, his face still contorted in pain, and Stiles gently touched his cheek again. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” Derek breathed, blinked his eyes open again to look at Stiles. “There’s no antivenom I know of. It’ll take time, but I’ll heal.”

“Peter, could you maybe stop drooling over advanced ingredients and come pull some pain?” Stiles asked as he got off his knees, sat down next to Derek.

Peter huffed, but he came over to Derek’s other side. “You have looked better,” he said, then he took Derek’s hand and started to pull.

“Okay, now what, though? What does the venom do?” Stiles asked.

“Not sure,” Derek said quietly, his voice strained. “It affects healing for us, hurts a whole fucking _lot_ right now, but-.” He lifted a shoulder in a weak shrug. “I think my leg is broken.”

“So, ambulance?” Stiles asked, but Derek shook his head.

“No, not-. No.”

“But-,” Stiles started, but Derek shook his head again.

“No.”

“Derek,” Peter said softly, and Derek sighed, a deep and resigned sigh, closed his eyes again. “Your leg is broken, and it might be _weeks_ before your healing kicks in. You have to get it set, you have to get a cast.”

“I can call Dr. Geyer?” Stiles asked.

Derek’s mouth was a thin line, his brows furrowed, his eyes kept closed, and he didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, call him,” Peter said quietly.

 

It was tricky to get Derek to the hospital. He refused an ambulance so they had to get him into one of the cars, but they managed, and Peter was there all the time, pulled pain and guided, his voice uncharacteristically soft. At the hospital Dr. Geyer x-rayed and got a cast on Derek’s leg, cleaned and stitched the wound in his chest, cleaned and stitched a few other wounds, all the while asking Derek and Peter questions about the manticore. Derek didn’t say much, but he accepted everything with only mild complaints, that Peter gently quashed while Stiles mostly hovered uselessly.

He probably should have gone home or helped Kira and Jordan bring the manticore to Derek’s house, but again, _issues_. It was Derek, he couldn’t leave him. He ran out to Derek’s car when Peter asked him though, fetched a bag with clean clothes for Derek, and a few times Dr. Geyer asked for his assistance that he readily gave him, so he did something at least.

They got Derek home eventually, high on strong pain medication, weirdly smiley but grumpy. He didn’t want to accept help, but Peter managed, his soft voice made Derek look sad and resigned as he allowed Peter to steady and guide him while Stiles opened doors and mostly tried to be useful.

Kira and Jordan were both at Derek’s house, as was Chris. He looked _pissed_ when he saw Peter, but when Peter glanced at Derek and shook his head minutely Chris visibly let it go, just came up to press a kiss to Peter’s temple. They sat Derek in a chair on the deck while they dealt with the manticore on the lawn, and Stiles and sat down next to him.

”Don’t you want to see?” Derek slurred and gestured to the manticore’s body.

Stiles _did_ want to see, he wanted to know everything he could, but he wanted to stay with Derek more, and he knew he could ask Peter and Chris later. He smiled at Derek. 

”I’m good here.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at him, but then he smiled softly. He furrowed his brows and looked at his pack. ”Okay.” He watched them a moment, so Stiles looked at them too, noticed that Kira kept sneaking glances at them, and Derek hummed. ”Kira’s scared.”

Kira looked at him. ”I’m not-. I’m more pissed than scared now,” she said, then she glared at Stiles, who raised his eyebrows and hands.

”What did I do?”

She grabbed the stinger in a gloved hand and _stalked_ up to them, and Stiles nearly scrambled out of his chair. Kira was _not_ supposed to look like that, like a fucking _fury_. She wasn’t supposed to look scary at all, it was Kira for fuck’s sake, sweet and smiley and awkward Kira.

“This?” she said and held the stinger in front of Stiles’ face. “This would have _killed_ you. Instantly.” She held it closer, still at a safe distance though, leaned in closer as she glared. “ _Instantly_.”

“Yes?” Stiles said meekly as he leaned back. He knew that. They had all been very clear, it was after all the reason he actually had stayed back from the fight.

“You don’t even know, do you?” she asked and he blinked and looked at her as she straightened up.

“Know what?” Stiles asked carefully.

“How fucking _close_ it was to you,” Kira said. “He swung it less than a fucking _inch_ from your head, if you hadn’t hit when you did, if you had hit a _second_ later he would have hit you with it.”

“Oh,” Stiles said. He swallowed roughly. “I, uh. I didn’t… realize that. No.”

He glanced at Derek, who was laughing quietly with a hand over his eyes, and Stiles looked back at Kira, then at Jordan and Peter and Chris, who were all watching them, their eyes a little too big. Stiles guessed they hadn’t realized either.

“Jesus,” Derek said quietly, his hand still covering his eyes. He lowered it though, looked at Stiles, shook his head. “Jesus.”

“I’m sorry?” Stiles said. Asked? Derek just rolled his eyes, huffed another laugh and looked away. “It was killing you, Derek.” Stiles looked at Kira. “It was _killing_ him.”

“Was it, really?” Kira asked, her head tilted and her eyebrows raised.

“He was alone against it, it had its stinger in his chest, it was fucking standing on him!”

“We were right there, Stiles,” Kira said. “We were _right there_. We would have been on it seconds later!”

“Would he have been _alive_ seconds later?” Stiles asked.

“If you _touch_ this you die,” Kira said and angrily shook the stinger. “Did you even see where it fell before you rushed to his side?”

“I-.” Stiles swallowed roughly. “No.”

“No, you didn’t,” Kira said and shook her head. “I love Derek, you know I do, but you nearly died today, and you don’t even know it, while he _would_ have survived until we could get to him.”

“Sorry,” Stiles said quietly.

She glared between Stiles and Derek. “You fucking deserve each other, so fucking stupid the both of you,” she said, then she walked back to the others.

“Hey,” Stiles said weakly. “Derek’s not stupid.” Derek barked out a laugh, winced and put his hand on his chest, but he didn’t stop laughing, and Stiles looked at him. “What? You’re not!”

“I really fucking am,” Derek said, still laughing softly.

Stiles looked at Peter, who was smiling at them. “She’s not talking about book smarts,” Peter said. “We all know you’re both intelligent, you’re just also _really_ stupid.”

“I take offense in this,” Stiles said, while Derek _kept laughing._

Until he didn’t. Suddenly he put his hands over his face and sobbed instead, and Stiles nearly tipped his chair as she scrambled to get up, to hover.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Does it hurt?”

Derek snorted out a laugh, but then he kept on sobbing against his hands. “No, it doesn’t hurt,” he said, voice muffled and quiet and rough.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked again.

“He’s high,” Peter said. “He’s okay, he’s just… it’s a lot, okay?”

Stiles nodded and pulled his chair closer so he could sit down again, then he put his hand on Derek’s forearm.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said softly, and he heard Kira groan, so he looked over at them, at Peter and Chris watching them with equally soft and amused smiles, at Parrish rolling his eyes at them, at Kira turning her back to them. Stiles flailed his free hand around. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Nothing’s going on,” Peter said, like a lying liar. “He’s just high.”

“You-.” Stiles groaned. He _knew_ Derek was high, but Derek was also fucking _crying_ , and everyone was being weird and Stiles was-. He didn’t know what he was, frustrated and confused. He focused on Derek instead, ignored the others, gently stroked Derek’s forearm and scooted his chair a little closer. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Derek nodded behind his hands, then he leaned towards Stiles, and when Stiles carefully put an arm around his shoulders he put his face against Stiles’ chest, almost at his shoulder, and wrapped his arms around him. Stiles sat there, not knowing what the fuck was going on, and just held him. He stroked his arm, cupped the back of his head, let a thumb run through his soft hair, and he quietly mumbled reassurances to him.

As the others finished with the manticore Derek stopped crying, but he didn’t let go of Stiles, so Stiles kept holding him. Derek occasionally huffed a laugh or hiccupped out a sob, but he didn’t say anything, just stayed close. Stiles didn’t mind, but he was worried as he sat there, halfheartedly watching them bag and mark pieces and put the manticore on the bed of a pickup truck, and tried to reassure Derek.

”I’m okay,” Derek said quietly. ”I’m not okay, but I _will_ be okay.”

”I know,” Stiles said softly, squeezed him a little tighter.

”You saved me.”

Stiles frowned at nothing, stroked Derek’s arm. ”Yeah.”

”You almost got killed,” Derek said.

”I’m fine, though,” Stiles said, and Derek snorted, but Stiles wasn’t sure if it was a sob or a laugh or both.

”You should have stayed back.”

”I’m sorry,” Stiles said quietly.

Derek pulled back, sloppily wiped his face, looked at Stiles and nodded, then he looked at the others, and Stiles noticed they were all standing by the pickup truck, talking quietly. Derek sighed and looked around, reached for his crutches.

”I’m gonna go inside.”

”Okay.” Stiles got up too, hovered, so badly wanted to help, but Derek’s whole body language screamed _stay back_ so he didn’t do anything.

Peter came over though, walked next to Derek as he clumsily made his way inside, so Stiles opened the front door and tried to be useful. Then Peter looked at Stiles.

”Will you wait outside?” he asked. ”Go look at the things, ask Chris about it.”

Stiles did not want that, but he nodded, his brows furrowed. ”Yeah, sure.” He tried to sound light, but it came out rough. He looked at Derek, who had his back to Stiles, his shoulders a little hunched. That could just be because of the crutches though. Stiles nodded again. ”Okay.”

It _was_ interesting, listening to Chris talk about the different parts they had taken, about what they could be used for, it was fascinating, but Stiles kept looking at the front door. Kept worrying about Derek.

He felt a little pathetic, but it was Derek. He didn’t like to think about it, usually just pushed it away, but he was-. He loved Derek. He loved him in a life-altering way, in an almost scary way. He _knew_ he should be scared for himself, and had it been _anyone_ else he would have been, that it came so close, that he nearly got himself killed.

But, again, it was Derek. Stiles would do it again, in a heartbeat, without hesitation. He tried to tell himself that he would have done the same regardless of who it had been, but he knew that if it had been anyone else he would have trusted the others, he wouldn’t have felt that blinding and burning _panic_ at seeing them injured. Worry, yes, absolutely, but not that panic that consumed him, that shut his brain down, that made him run up to a creature that would kill him by _touch_ , that almost had killed him.

Stiles snapped his head up when the front door opened again, and Peter smiled at him as he came over.

”You’re staying, right?”

“Yes, if he’s okay with that, I thought I could,” Stiles said, and Peter nodded.

“Okay, good. He’s probably hungry now, I know I am, and I thought I’d see if Christopher couldn’t take me out to dinner.” Peter smiled at Chris, who raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe let him yell at me for not calling him first, and maybe I can take the time to make it up to him.”

“Oh, wow, yeah,” Stiles said and raised his hands in front of himself. “Please don’t say more.”

Peter winked at Stiles, but then he sobered up a little. “You know what places deliver out here, make sure he eats and keep him company, he’ll be able to take care of himself, but he’ll appreciate the company.”

“Okay, sure. Thanks.”

They all said goodbye, and Stiles was left feeling a little overwhelmed as he watched them drive away. He usually made sure Derek was okay after fights, he always needed to know for himself, so it wasn’t _unusual_ that they ordered take out and hung out at Derek’s house after, but it all felt so _weird_ , with how everyone had behaved. And Derek didn’t usually have a broken leg that didn’t heal either.

He opened the front door and stepped inside.

”Hungry?” he asked as he got out of his shoes.

There was no reply, so he walked to the living room, where Derek was sitting on the couch, head leaned back as he was looking at the ceiling.

”I just sat down,” Derek said.

”We could eat in here?” Stiles asked and Derek groaned and looked at him. Stiles rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile. ”Dude, I know where your plates and cutlery are. It’s not like you haven’t done that for me a thousand times already.”

“Not a thousand,” Derek said, a small smile on his lips that widened when Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Okay, _several_ times, Mr Nitpick,” Stiles conceded. “I’ll get the menus.”

Derek kept on being weirdly smiley and grumpy. He would smile at Stiles, a soft and open and happy smile, only to frown and look _sour_ , like he was annoyed that he had smiled. He smiled a _lot_ , too. Every time Stiles did something, when he got the menus, when he brought them cutlery and glasses, when he came into the living room with the food, Derek smiled softly, and Stiles kinda faltered and smiled back, just as softly, but then the frown came and Stiles faltered again, dropped his own smile and frowned. Derek’s frown deepened when that happened, and he looked at Stiles with wide eyes for a second before turning his head or dipping his chin.

It was nice though, just spending time with Derek. It always was. The high part wasn’t very fun, Derek fought it constantly, whenever he barked out a loud laugh at something Stiles said only to clench his jaws in frustration, or when he said things easier than usual and his cheeks pinked and he turned away.

“It’s okay, you know,” Stiles said as he gathered up the trash and dishes when they had eaten. “You’re allowed to relax, to let yourself enjoy things. I won’t hold it against you if you say something you didn’t mean to say.”

“I know,” Derek said. “It’s not that.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Then what?”

“Control,” Derek said, gritted out between his teeth.

“Oh.” Derek didn't like to not be in control, that made perfect sense. “Oh, yeah, okay. Sorry.”

“S’fine,” Derek said, forced a quick smile, and Stiles nodded and went to the kitchen.

When he came back, just a few minutes later, Derek was leaned back against the couch, his eyes closed, and Stiles smiled as he sat down next to him.

”Want to go to bed?” he asked softly, but Derek tilted his head in a lazy shake. ”Wanna watch a movie?”

Derek nodded, and Stiles got the remote and pulled up Netflix. Derek groaned as he sat up straighter, Stiles wasn’t sure if it was in pain or because he was tired, but Derek gave him a tight smile.

“M’fine,” he said, and when Stiles rolled his eyes at him he huffed a little laugh. “Okay, I’m not, but I’m okay.”

“If you say so,” Stiles said, then they picked a movie to watch.

 

•• **•** Derek **•** ••

Derek did _not_ like being high. Control was important to him, and he kept slipping up when he was on the strong pain medication, so he quickly decided that they were only for sleep. He could take them before going to bed and they would have mostly worn off by morning, and then he could keep to the weaker ones during the days.

Stiles stayed with him that first day, and he seemed reluctant to leave, but when Derek started dozing off and told him he was going to bed Stiles left after making sure he was okay on his own. And after Derek had promised to text or call him if he needed anything. He probably wouldn’t, but he was fairly sure Stiles knew that.

The second day with a broken leg and a deep wound in his chest was annoying. He woke up, slowly stretched on the bed, then groaned in pain as it pulled on the wound in his chest. It felt like a huge project to get out of bed, and he quickly realized that standing on one leg while peeing wasn’t an option, so he sat down from the start.

Then he made it to the kitchen and the next project started. He managed to start some coffee just fine, but then he opened the fridge, grabbed the eggs, and started to turn, only to realize that holding the eggs and using the crutches at the same time was decidedly _not_ easy. He hopped around using only one crutch as he slowly moved things to where he wanted them. It took a long time, but he managed to make and eat breakfast and do the dishes after. He was _beat_ when he was done though, so he flopped down on the couch, groaned in pain as it pulled on his wounds, breathed a moment as the pulsing of it receded, then he resolutely stayed on the couch most of the day.

He also tried very hard to not think about what a mess he had been the previous day, about what he had said to Stiles, what Stiles had done. He knew he’d have to talk to him, and he _wanted_ that, but it was still scary, opening up was always hard. Stiles texted him though, made it very difficult not to think about him, and when he got off work he bought take out and came over to Derek.

Derek heard him, his senses were the same, it was just the healing that was affected really, the overwhelming pain from when he was stung had gone away too, leaving him with wounds that hurt and didn’t heal while everything else was like always, so Derek heard Stiles’ Jeep, heard him get out of it, heard him skip up the steps. Stiles didn’t bother knocking, hadn’t done that since… well, probably ever actually.

“Yo, Derek,” he said as he came inside, then he got out of his shoes and came into the living room, carrying a grocery bag and a bag with food. “Hey, how’s it going?”

Derek rolled his eyes, because Stiles had already asked that via text. Three times. “Very slow and frustrating, but it’s going,” Derek said, as he had said three times already, and Stiles grinned.

“Yeah, it sucks being on crutches,” he said as he dropped the bag of food on the coffee table. He lifted the grocery bag. “I’m gonna put this away.”

“What is it?”

“Just some easy stuff for you to eat,” Stiles said as he disappeared into the kitchen. “Crutches and food are not the best of friends, I have learned.”

Derek heard him root around in the kitchen, but it wasn’t even a minute before he returned, carrying plates, glasses and cutlery, a bottle of water and a bottle of coke squeezed under his arm. Derek took the bottles from him in a move that felt almost practiced. How many times had they actually done that?

“Crutches and food hate each other,” Derek said, and Stiles grinned as he put the rest on the table.

“Wear clothes with big pockets,” Stiles said, “and only eat things that can be put in said pockets.”

“I usually eat scrambled eggs for breakfast,” Derek said.

“Tupperware?” Stiles asked and Derek hummed.

“Not a bad idea.”

“I wanted one of those little tables with wheels for the kitchen last time I had to use crutches.” Stiles had put the plates, glasses and cutlery in their places and started on the boxes of food. “Just to move things from the fridge to the stove and to the table mostly.”

“Hmm,” Derek said, thinking about the serving cart Peter had. That did sound like it could make things a lot easier.

They talked as they ate, then Stiles cleaned up after them and started to wash the dishes. Derek got up with a grunt and slowly hopped into the kitchen, where he sat down by the table. Stiles turned his head to look at him with furrowed brows.

”You didn’t have to come in here,” he said. ”I’ll be done in a minute.”

”It’s fine,” Derek said, and Stiles looked at him another couple of seconds before shrugging and turning back to the dishes. Derek took a deep breath and hoped Stiles would stay with his back turned as he talked. “I realized something yesterday.” Stiles hummed and Derek swallowed. “I didn’t want to talk about it while high though.”

“Okay?” Stiles glanced back at him, but Derek kept his eyes on the table, and Stiles quickly turned back to the dishes again.

“It’s pretty obvious, and I think everyone else knows already,” Derek said, and when Stiles kept quiet and didn’t turn around Derek looked at him. His shoulders were tense, a little high. “I didn’t want to… risk anything, because I didn’t know, but I think-.” Derek swallowed roughly, cleared his throat, swallowed again. “After yesterday I’m pretty sure you feel the same.”

It was quiet for what felt like an eternity while Derek tried to gather courage to say more, but then Stiles spoke. “About what?” he asked carefully.

“How I-.” Derek stopped, frowned. “The way I feel about you.”

Stiles’ shoulders were still tense as he stayed with his back to Derek and very slowly finished. “And how is that?”

Derek sighed and ran a hand across his face. He was not good at talking about emotions. “Would you have done what you did yesterday if it had been anyone else?” he asked instead of admitting his feelings.

“Probably not,” Stiles said as he put the last fork to dry, his voice a little stiff.

“Kira said we’re stupid,” Derek said and Stiles turned to him, a deep furrow between his brows as he went to get the hand towel.

“You’re not stupid,” he started.

“No,” Derek said before Stiles could start to defend him again, and a smile made its way to his face. “No, and neither are you. But we also kinda are.”

“Okay?” Stiles said and sat down across the table from Derek.

“I’m… so very bad at this,” Derek said and looked at his hands. “It’s scary, no matter how sure I am, it’s-.” He looked at Stiles, forced a smile, and Stiles tilted his head a little, looked concerned. “I would-. When something happens to you, I don’t… think rationally. I love Peter and Kira and John, and when something happens to them I get scared and I worry, but I can still _think_.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said softly. “That’s why I didn’t stay back yesterday.”

“So you get it?” Derek asked, a little desperately, hoping Stiles would understand and do the confessions first or help him through it somehow. “You get why we’re stupid?”

“It’s not the first time it’s happened, but it is the first time Kira has outright called us both stupid, and yeah.” Stiles smiled. “I can kinda see where she’s coming from now.”

“Yeah?” Derek asked.

“You really _are_ bad at this,” Stiles said, but his smile was warm and he smelled happy. “I’m in love with you, Derek.”

“Yeah?” Derek asked again, smiling too.

“Oh, you don’t even know, I’m-. Yeah, I am.”

“Me too,” Derek said, and Stiles huffed a laugh. “No, shut up.” He tried to plead with his eyes, but Stiles just grinned at him, his eyebrows raised, and Derek hated himself for always nitpicking with Stiles’ words. “God damn it.” He huffed, took a breath, looked Stiles in the eyes. ”I’m in love with you too.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, downright beaming at Derek.

“Yeah. Even though you’re an asshole.”

“You knew that all along,” Stiles said and got up from the table. He came over to Derek, put a hand on his forearm. “How about we go back to the couch and have some dessert? We could watch something, if you want to, or we could talk.”

Derek looked up at him, he was smiling down at Derek, and Derek smiled too. “That sounds nice.”

“Okay, good.” Stiles leaned down and pressed a kiss to Derek’s hair. “I love you.” Derek grabbed Stiles hand, his throat tight as he looked at him. He pulled Stiles’ hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss to it, and Stiles smiled again. “I’ll set the table while you hop in there.”

“Yeah,” Derek croaked. He got up to his feet, Stiles next to him but not helping, and he nodded. “I should go to the bathroom while I’m up.”

“You do that,” Stiles said. He leaned in, hesitated a little, then pressed a soft kiss to Derek’s cheek, and Derek smiled when he pulled back. He put his fingertips on Stiles’ jaw, gently guided him closer, then he pressed a light kiss to his mouth, just lips pressed against lips, before he pulled back again.

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Derek said, and Stiles’ smile was huge. ”Then maybe we can do more of this?”

Stiles positively _beamed_ at him. ”That sounds like a great plan.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! ♥


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